


ace of hearts

by a_matter_of_loyalty



Series: Tales of Tony Stark and Peter Parker (AKA Iron Dad and Spider Son) [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Acephobia, Acephobic Remarks, Asexual Peter Parker, Coming Out, Fluff, Gen, Iron Dad, Jealous Tony Stark, LGBTQ Bullying, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, May's nice boyfriend, Minor Angst, Protective Tony Stark, Stark Industries gala, Supportive Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, Tony loves his dumbass kid, cringeworthy ace puns, minor jealousy, who is actually not an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28935408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_matter_of_loyalty/pseuds/a_matter_of_loyalty
Summary: “As far as I’m concerned, this changesnothingabout you. Nothing about how I see you, at least—which is as the best, kindest, bravest and mostselflesskid I have ever known.” Tony’s voice is soft yet sure, transparently awash with storgic love. “Being asexual is simply another part of who you are, and I love who you are.”Peter blinks back tears. “Mr. Stark—”“You’re stillyou—stillmykid. Trust me, Pete, there’s nothing you could possibly say or do to make me stop being so, so damn proud of you. Especially not something like this. I’m never –never– going to judge you for who you love orhowyou love. I promise."Featuring: Aunt May’s (nice) boyfriend and a jealous Tony, Peter as the most precious kid known to man, a stuffy gala and a queerphobic investor and a protective mentor.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man)/Original Male Character(s), Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Original Male Character(s), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Tales of Tony Stark and Peter Parker (AKA Iron Dad and Spider Son) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815769
Comments: 16
Kudos: 253





	ace of hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baloobird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baloobird/gifts).



> for [@baloobird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baloobird/works) — happy birthday, Kris! I hope you had a great one! Thank you for being such a great friend and just as great of an inspiration. I love you a ton, and you deserve the world <3
> 
> -
> 
> TW: some acephobic comments by an OC (not May's boyfriend) — nothing major, but tagging to be safe; please take care of yourselves!!

“So?”

Peter hums thoughtfully, eyes sweeping over his aunt as she sits across him, practically on the edge of her seat with nerves. She’s chewing her bottom lip anxiously, left hand clutching her skirt tightly whilst the fingers of her other hand drums an arrhythmic pattern against her knee. Her eyebrows are knitted with worry.

It’s rare that Peter ever sees his aunt like this—usually, she’s so fierce and protective and full of _fire_ —and it’s what makes the realization sink in: this is _serious._ This is _real._

Well, he kind of already guessed that. Aunt May has never brought any of her dates home to meet him before, after all. Earlier tonight was the first time—it struck him a little by surprise, because he hasn’t actually _seen_ her with anyone since Uncle Ben, but he _knows_ she must really like her new boyfriend if she’s willing to let him into their life, their cozy safe haven in the center of Queens.

And, well. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy.

And Jon—yes, _Jon,_ because he’d adamantly refused to let Peter get away with calling him Mr. Hargreaves or something equally formal—makes her happy.

That’s all that matters, in the end.

“He’s pretty great,” he offers finally, letting a bright grin climb up his face. “I like him.”

He’s only a little surprised to find that he _means_ it: Jon is genuinely _nice._ A little ordinary compared to all of the other adults Peter and May surround themselves with on a regular basis, but nice nonetheless—and maybe his ordinariness is part of the appeal to May. Maybe she needs a little normal, an escape from all the _crazy_ in their lives. And better yet, it’s clear to Peter that Jon is serious about May, too—at the very least, serious enough to make a real effort with her nephew slash pseudo-son. 

Jon had shown up to dinner tonight with a bouquet for May—peonies, her favorite, kudos to him—and a LEGO set that had made Peter’s entire face light up. His friendly, easy-going demeanor had sealed the deal: _May’s always telling me about how much you love LEGOs,_ Jon had remarked sheepishly to Peter’s embarrassed stammering and May’s soft smile, _so I just thought… I don’t know, maybe this is a little presumptuous, but if tonight’s dinner goes well, maybe we could start building the LEGO together? I’d like to get to know you better._

Needless to say, Peter’s answer had been an eager _yes_ to Jon’s face and a spam of enthusiastic texts to his trusty guy-in-the-chair ( _holy shit May’s new bf wants to build LEGOs with me!! and he wasn’t even making fun of me!!!_ ).

One Italian dinner later (Aunt May had actually _cooked_ this time—granted, Peter had been in the kitchen the entire time supervising her, but she’d still done most of the work and her lasagna had turned out surprisingly delicious), the three of them retired to the living room and tore open the LEGO box, spreading the pieces out on the carpet. 

“Well,” Peter beamed, tucking his phone (bright with Ned’s text – _damn, a million brownie points to the new guy, he definitely knows how to bribe you_ ) into his pocket as he practically vibrated with excitement, “let’s get started!”

Now, hours later, long after Jon had left after promising Peter he couldn’t wait to visit again and finish their LEGO set, Peter smiles warmly up at Aunt May.

“I mean it,” he says earnestly, “Jon seems nice. I’m really happy for you, Aunt May.”

May’s ensuing beam—radiant as ever, yet with a touch of giddy joy Peter can’t ignore—makes him feel even more confident in his answer.

Jon is _good_ for her.

* * *

Of course, not everyone is as confident as he is of May’s budding relationship.

Every single one of their found family members (because their family is bigger than just the two of them now, because they have others who love them and would willingly walk into hell barefoot for them) reacts with at least a little hesitation: 

Ms. Potts exhales heavily through her nose when she finds out—not a harsh sound but not a particularly nice sound either—and immediately begins to do some “investigative research” (read: _stalking_ ). It’s only after she’s ascertained for herself that Jon is objectively a good person—no rap sheet, no outstanding debts, nothing—that she lets her guard down enough to congratulate May. 

(Off to the side, to Peter, she whispers, _you let me know if he breaks her heart and I’ll destroy him in a heartbeat, okay?_

He has no doubt she means every word.)

Happy’s even more displeased than Pepper when he hears the news, immediately offering to chauffeur May to all future dates (and subtly assess Jon for any danger he may pose while he’s at it). May courteously declines, but Peter thinks he spots Happy’s (or, technically, Tony’s) telltale Audi A8 idling a few blocks away the next few times Jon drops by. How Happy knows Jon and May’s schedule, Peter hasn’t quite figured out.

Rhodey is the only one who looks even remotely excited by the turn of events. _That’s great,_ he lets May know, earnest and warm as he wraps her and Peter up in a group hug. Peter loves Rhodey’s hugs. _I’m glad to hear it. You deserve to be happy. He makes you happy, right?_

And then, of course, there’s _Tony._ Tony’s unpredictable on the best of days, but this— _this,_ Peter could never have seen coming: Tony Stark freezes solid as soon as the words _May finally introduced me to her new boyfriend_ leave Peter’s mouth. His eyes twitch minutely, shoulders hunching upwards as tension snakes its way through his body, and he demands, “Full name? Address? Wait, don’t bother, FRIDAY can tell me later, I—”

“ _Mr. Stark,_ stop,” Peter huffs in exasperation, even as he inwardly fights to tamp down a smile. Warmth spreads through his chest at Tony’s protectiveness. Mere months ago, he would never have even dreamed of having this: Tony Stark and Pepper Potts and James Rhodes and Happy Hogan banding together to protect him and Aunt May _._

It’s been just him and his aunt for so long, and she’s always been more than enough for him—no one loves him like she does—but he can’t deny the sheer _happiness_ that seeps into him whenever he thinks of all the family he has now. Because that’s what they are: _family._ And he’s reminded of that every time Happy takes him out for ice cream or burgers to celebrate another perfect test score, every time Rhodey surprises him with a spontaneous trip to his air force base or accompanies him on one of his morning runs, every time Pepper swings by with take-out and chips and joins him and May in bingeing their favorite cooking show, and every time Tony walks him through his latest homework problem or teaches him to tie a necktie or willingly sits through yet another Star Wars marathon for him. 

Once upon a time, he would never have been able to even imagine this. Today, though, hearing Tony immediately launch into what Rhodey has affectionately dubbed his Overprotective Iron Dad Mode™ after only one mention of someone unknown becoming a part of his and May’s lives comes as no surprise at all.

This is his life now. (And he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

A wave of utter _fondness_ crests within him and he only barely manages to mask it with a warning glare, which he’s been reliably informed looks about as intimidating as a newborn puppy. “I don’t need you to look him up for me!” Peter groans. “In fact, _please_ don’t. I’m pretty sure Ms. Potts has already stalked him, anyway, so there’s no point.”

“You can never be too careful,” Tony dismisses, ignoring Peter’s pleas completely and calling up a new hologram with the wave of a hand. “FRI, darling? Did you get all that? I’m going to need everything there is to know about May’s new boyfriend. Pete, you said his name was Jon?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“FRI?”

“Ms. Parker, codename _Aunt Hottie_ ,”—FRIDAY and Mr. Stark both pointedly ignore Peter’s indignant squawk—“has had associations with only one Jon to date—full name: Jon Flores Hargreaves,” FRIDAY promptly answers. “Mr. Hargreaves is an anesthetist at the same hospital where Ms. Parker works. He’s four years older than Ms. Parker, with two younger sisters and a—”

“FRIDAY, _stop_!” Peter calls frantically. “That’s enough!”

Tony startles at that, an offended _what, why?_ beginning to tumble out of his mouth, but FRIDAY is already falling silent. Peter tries not to smile too smugly; FRIDAY _adores_ him, and they both know it.

“Mr. Stark,” he admonishes instead, “ _come on._ I thought you were supposed to be the adult here! _Not cool_ , man.” Peter can practically _feel_ the Signature Tony Stark Eye-roll™ coming, so he tacks on jokingly before Tony can protest, “What did Jon ever do to you?”

Tony’s jaw drops. “ _Jon_?” he echoes, face twisting as if he’s tasted something sour. “I’m still _Mr. Stark_ ”—( _I don’t sound like that!_ Peter protests at Tony’s frankly atrocious yet spot-on impression of him)—“after _over a year,_ but _one_ meeting with this guy and he’s _Jon_?”

“Yep,” Peter beams. He will never admit that the only reason he’s still stubbornly sticking to the name _Mr. Stark_ is so that he won’t accidentally blurt out _dad_. Luckily, Tony hasn’t seemed to catch on to his reasoning yet. “Jon’s super great, Mr. Stark,” he insists. “And Aunt May really likes him! _Please_ don’t stalk him.”

Tony blinks. And blinks again. The strangest look flashes across his face: his brows furrow, eyes squinting at Peter in incomprehension as he bites his lip. Tony Stark, _confused,_ is not a sight one sees everyday—or _ever,_ really.

“ _Super great_ , huh?” Tony mutters to himself, voice stiff in a way it hasn’t been around Peter since after the whole Toomes debacle. He snorts inelegantly. “That’s impossible. His name’s _Jon._ ”

Peter splutters in disbelief. “What’s wrong with his _name_?”

“What’s _not_ wrong with that name?” Tony shoots back, scrunching his nose in disgust. “Come on, Pete, don’t you want to know if he’s hiding something? It’s just a little spying, no harm done. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him and all that. We don’t even have to tell Aunt Hottie what we’re doing!”

“Oh, man. Ms. Potts was _right._ You _are_ an overgrown manchild. I can’t believe _I_ have to be the responsible one around here!” Peter blows out a breath in exasperation. “Mr. Stark, _no._ No infringing on my aunt’s boyfriend’s privacy!”

Tony pouts. “ _Fine,_ ” he sulks. “You’re _no_ fun.”

“And you’re _impossible,_ ” Peter retorts. “I swear. The press would have a field day if they knew what ‘the Great Tony Stark’ was _really_ like.”

“Why do I hear air quotes around ‘great’?” Tony squints. “I feel like you’re mocking me.”

“ _Am I_?”

Tony harrumphs. “I miss the Peter who was too intimidated to talk back to me,” he laments. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “No,” he says knowingly, “you don’t.”

Tony scowls and turns away, stubbornly returning to his tinkering, but Peter _swears_ he can see his mentor’s lips twitch into the tiniest of smiles. 

* * *

It seems only the adults are acting weird about the whole May-is-dating-again thing. Peter’s friends are approximately three times cooler about it.

MJ just nods sharply and says _huh, good for her_ when he makes an offhand comment about Jon during lunchtime. When she spots just how _excited_ he is for May, she sighs a little (the irritated but resigned sigh she usually gives every time one of them completely derails a Decathlon meeting with yet another ill-timed rant about something or other) and grudgingly offers him a fist bump.

Peter practically _glows_ with glee, knocking his own curled fist against hers. Fist bumps are exceptionally rare coming from MJ, and he treasures each and every one of them.

Ned, meanwhile, is almost as thrilled as Peter is—most likely because of the LEGO thing. There’s a reason Ned is Peter’s best friend, after all. 

They spend the entire lunch time babbling about it.

(MJ looks only 10% more annoyed than she normally would. Peter counts it as a win.)

* * *

**XXX-XXX-XXX:** Hey, Pete. This is Jon, May’s boyfriend? Your aunt gave me your number after I mentioned I wanted to set up a time to finish that LEGO set. 

**XXX-XXX-XXX:** (Also I think she just wants us to bond—which I have no complaints about, of course.)

**XXX-XXX-XXX:** How does Wednesday afternoon sound? May and I both have the night shift off on Wednesdays, so I figured I could bring Thai over and the three of us could work together to finish it.

**XXX-XXX-XXX:** What do you think, kid? You up for some LEGOs and Thai?

**Peter:** Sure!! That sounds awesome :)

**Jon (a.k.a. May’s COOL bf):** Great! 

**Peter:** Aunt May said yes! And I think you’re right, she totally just wants to see us bond :P

**Peter:** not sure she had any faith in us, though

**Jon (a.k.a. May’s COOL bf):** Joke’s on her—we’re totally bonding!

**Peter:** :D

* * *

They build the LEGO. 

Peter has just enough time to feel slightly regretful—it’s always a thrill to finish a LEGO set, but this time, that familiar thrill is accompanied with the knowledge that Jon no longer has any reason to pretend to _want_ to be _his_ friend (and who would have ever guessed he’d be so okay with Aunt May’s _boyfriend_?)—before Jon grins and asks, easy as breathing, “I haven’t built a LEGO in ages! We should celebrate. I was planning to take May out to dinner this Sunday, but I can change the reservation to a table for three. If you’d like to join us, that is.”

Peter blinks. “Join… you?” His first instinct is to say: _I don’t want to impose._ But his errant mind traitorously wanders to his childhood years and Friday nights spent tagging along on Aunt May and Uncle Ben’s date nights, tugging on Aunt May’s flowy dress until she’d look down at him with that soft smile reserved only for him and say, _you hungry, kiddo? Me, too._ She’d never minded before—after Uncle Ben’s death, she once told him during an evening of reminiscing that she’d always loved those dates-turned-family-bonding-nights. 

Everyday for the last decade or so, Aunt May has drilled it into him that _you could never impose, Peter, you’re my kid and I larb you._

It’s the look in her eyes when she said those words—firm and steely but overflowing with so, _so_ much love—that flashes in his memory now, driving him to nod and say, “I’d like that.”

Jon doesn’t look at all as if he’s imposing, either. “I’m glad,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. “Does that sound okay to you, May?”

May smiles, too. It’s warm and earnest and undeniable. “That sounds perfect,” she replies, and she knows for a fact that she’s never been more fond of Jon than she is now, as he offers to change their plans to include her nephew – her _son._ The fact of the matter is, she and Peter are a _unit_. And if Peter were to say the word, she’d kick Jon out in a heartbeat.

But, as she rocks back on her heels to survey the sight in front of her, she sees—

_Peter and Jon, their newly-finished LEGO, and the beginnings of a new home._

She and Peter have always existed in a pocket universe of their own making, a bubble closed off to the rest of the world—they’re a package deal. There’s never been any space between them for anyone else.

But Jon isn’t asking for her to carve in room for him. He isn’t trying to force himself into the nonexistent gaps between Peter-and-May, between a kid with a heart of gold and the woman who’ll stop at nothing to keep that heart full and aglow. He’s simply… slotting in where he can, and, May realizes:

She’s _happy._

And even more important:

She looks at Peter, grinning shyly down at their creation, bright-eyed with pleasure, and thinks, _he’s happy, too._

To May Parker, nothing else matters. Her kid’s happiness is and always will be her first priority.

* * *

“Hey, Pete, what do those colors mean?” Jon asks one day, his inquisitive gaze caught on the ace pin stuck to Peter’s backpack. 

Peter freezes.

“I – sorry, I know I should be more knowledgeable about this stuff, but—”

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s _good_ that you want to learn, I—” Peter pauses. He’s met Jon only a handful of times thus far. And sure, he likes him well enough—he likes how _happy_ Jon seems to make Aunt May, how Jon’s able to send her giggling from halfway across the city, how May’s smiles are always soft and fond and _real_ whenever she talks about Jon—but he doesn’t _know_ Jon, not really. 

Coming out is something he’s always taken seriously. It took him _months_ after Homecoming to muster the courage to open up to Mr. Stark and trust his mentor with this part of himself. MJ, too, hadn’t known until they’d cemented their friendship. Ned knew the earliest—of course he did, he’s Peter’s best friend, after all—but even then, Peter had spent ages vacillating with uncertainty.

As nice as Jon seems, it’s impossible to tell how a person will react to a coming-out. 

No matter how many times Peter’s laid his sexuality—or rather, his lack thereof—bare, he never quite loses his fear. There will always be a voice in his mind that hedges, _but what if…?_

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jon draws him out of his spiraling thoughts. “It’s okay, Pete. I was just wondering. If you’re not comfortable with telling me yet, that’s fine. I promise I won’t try to find out on my own—not until _you’re_ ready for me to know. I can wait.”

Peter blinks back tears. 

_I can wait._

It’s that, in the end, that silences the little voice in his head. 

Peter inhales shakily. He still doesn’t know how Jon will react—doesn’t know how Jon will _look_ at him after this—but for some reason, he feels… startlingly _okay_ with that. Because no matter how Jon reacts, Peter _knows_ he’s not alone. He _knows_ he’s valid, _knows_ he has his friends’— _family’s_ —support.

“I – I _want_ to tell you,” Peter says. “I _do._ I just…”

Jon lights up. “Take your time,” he soothes, a warm smile on his face. It’s the same smile Peter’s seen him give to May countless times before—whenever he drops her off, or during video calls, or in the mornings the few times he’s dropped by with coffee and croissants. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter can’t help but smile back. His nerves begin to settle.

_I’m not alone,_ he repeats to himself. The ace pin Jon noticed—a gift from Tony, presented a week after he first came out to the eccentric billionaire—is a stark reminder of exactly that. Nowadays, he makes sure it’s with him everywhere he goes, tangible proof that he is loved and accepted and safe.

( _“Mr. Stark?” Peter swallows. It feels like it’s been hours since he said the words—though in reality it’s probably been barely a minute—and the silence is nerve-wrecking. “Are you… are_ we _okay?”_

_Mr. Stark blinks back to life at that, breath hitching as he turns his gaze to Peter. “Oh, Pete,” he breathes. “Of course, kiddo._ Of course _we’re okay. We’re_ more _than okay.”_

_Peter practically collapses in his chair in relief. “Oh, thank Thor,” he exhales. “I know this probably isn’t what you were expecting when I said I wanted to talk to you, but I just – I really wanted you to know.”_

_“Pete—”_

_“This – this isn’t just a phase,” he rushes to add before Tony can say anything else, his eyes trained on the floor, so entranced by absolutely nothing that he completely misses the dewy-eyed look of pride on Tony’s face. “I know that a lot of people don’t think asexuality is a real thing, but—”_

_“Pete.” Tony’s voice is soft, yet firm. Solid and dependable—every bit like Tony himself._

_Peter blinks back tears. Sucking in a terrified breath and timidly lifting his eyes to meet Tony’s, he mumbles, “Yeah?”_

_Tony smiles—the kind of smile that softens his entire face and is reflected in his eyes. It’s Peter’s favorite of all of Mr. Stark’s smiles, because it’s real and open and honest. “Asexuality is very real,” Tony murmurs, and a quiet reassurance nestles itself in Peter’s chest. “It’s valid—_ you’re _valid—and I believe you.”_ )

Since the day he learned of Peter’s asexuality, Mr. Stark has quickly become one of Peter’s staunchest pillars of support. He never lets a day go by without reminding Peter that he is valid—whether directly, through a firm hug or ace-themed presents or a murmured _don’t listen to anyone who tries to put you down for the way you love_ , or indirectly, through a meme or an honest attempt to learn as much as he possibly can about who Peter is. 

It’s Mr. Stark he thinks of now, as he faces Jon’s encouraging smile and welcoming kindness. Mr. Stark and his unending wave of support—his boundless, unconditional love.

He’s not alone. And as long as Mr. Stark has any say in it, as long as Ned and MJ are here, as long as Aunt May has a choice in the matter, he won’t _ever_ be alone.

“You asked about my pin,” Peter starts, offering the backpack to Jon for a closer look. “These are the colors for, uh, asexuality.”

( _“As far as I’m concerned, this changes_ nothing _about you. Nothing about how I see you, at least—which is as the best, kindest, bravest and most_ selfless _kid I have ever known.” Tony’s voice is soft yet sure, transparently awash with storgic love. “Being asexual is simply another part of who you are, and I love who you are.”_

_Peter blinks back tears. “Mr. Stark—”_

_“You’re still_ you— _still_ my kid _. Trust me, Pete, there’s nothing you could possibly say or do to make me stop being so, so damn proud of you. Especially not something like this. I’m never –_ never – _going to judge you for who you love or_ how _you love. I promise.”_ )

“That’s what it’s for. I’m… I’m asexual.” Peter’s voice is hesitant yet measured and even, calm and relaxed. “Do you know what that means?”

Jon smiles, quietly reassuring. “I think so, but do you mind telling me what it means for you?”

Peter nods jerkily. “Um, well, asexuality is broadly defined as a lack of sexual attraction, but it exists on a huge spectrum so it can mean different things to different people. Some asexuals are okay with, uh, doing _it,_ but...” He takes in a deep breath. This part never gets any easier, but —

( _I’m never going to judge you for who you love or how you love._ )

“But I’m not one of them,” he hastens to say, letting the memory of Tony’s voice, firm and certain, wash over him. It wraps him up in a phantom hug, drilling the rhythm of _you’re not alone you’re not alone you’re not alone_ into his head. 

Jon hums an unspoken question.

Peter swallows. He thinks of MJ and her determination to live without doubt or fear—MJ is and always has been the loudest person Peter knows, carrying with her a refusal to hide who she is wherever she goes. He thinks of Ned and their shared love of Star Wars, of the way Ned’s eyes light up shamelessly every time one of their conversations stumble upon that topic. He thinks of May and her unrestrained laughs, of how she is always the first to make fun of herself whenever she burns dinner, of how she wraps her self-acceptance and self-love around herself and never lets anyone else’s opinions pierce that veil. He thinks of Mr. Stark and his easy confidence, of every time Tony fearlessly stands up for what he believes in, of himself six years ago as he sat on the Parkers’ beaten couch and stared in awe at the fire in Tony’s eyes as he declared _I am Iron Man_ for all the world to hear _._

“I have no interest in having any kind of sexual relationship,” he states firmly, trying to channel the bravery of those he loves as best he can—trying to channel MJ’s unabashed boldness, Ned’s transparent integrity, May’s effortless self-assurance, Tony’s unyielding courage and aplomb. “That’s what I meant to say.”

Jon doesn’t bat an eye. “Thank you for telling me, Pete,” he says. His lips curve upwards just a tiny bit further. “I’m honored.”

( _“Thank you for trusting me with who you are. I’m so proud of you, bud,” Mr. Stark murmurs. His eyes shine with unshed tears. “Can I – can I hug you?”_

_Peter tries not to cry tears of his own. “Yeah,” he whispers. He’d never deny a hug from Mr. Stark—Mr. Stark the mentor and friend and father figure, that is, not Mr. Stark the unapproachable eccentric billionaire. “Please. I’d like that.”_

_Tony doesn’t hesitate to step forward and pull Peter into a crushing embrace that makes Peter think of the warmth of family. “Thank you,” Tony repeats, breathless with an overwhelming fondness for Peter that surges within him with the force of an uncontrollable geyser. “I’m – I’m glad you feel like you can come to me with this. I’m here for you, Pete, always.”_

_“I know,” Peter breathes. “I know.”_

_“I mean it, kid._ Always _.” Tony squeezes his shoulders once before he draws away and looks Peter in the eye. “And one more thing: if anyone gives you shit about this…”_

_“Send them to you?”_

_“Exactly.” Tony’s smile is all teeth. He doesn’t say anything else, but Peter hears the threat all the same._

_Peter laughs wetly. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”_ )

( _The first time Peter visits Stark Tower for one of his lab sessions after his coming out, Tony greets him the same as always: with a fond smile and a crushing hug and an eager “let’s get started.”_

_After Peter’s settled in, Tony calls forth an extra hologram display and opens a blank file, titling it ‘SPIDEY’S WEB FORMULA - VERS 13C’._

_Just before the new document appears, though, Peter_ knows _he saw the hologram open up to an assortment of educational websites and e-books on asexuality and the LGBT+ community. He swears one of them was entitled ‘A Parent’s Guide to Asexuality’._

_Peter hides a pleased smile behind an embarrassed yelp of Mr. Stark’s name._ )

(Tony never treats him any differently, and Peter loves him all the more for it.)

* * *

**Jon (a.k.a. May’s COOL bf):** Morning, Pete! 

**Jon (a.k.a. May’s COOL bf):** Not sure if she’s told you yet, but May’s going to be covering a coworker’s shift this Saturday. 

**Jon (a.k.a. May’s COOL bf):** May told me you’ve been wanting to go to the mall for extra school supplies and whatnot. I know you’re old enough to stay home on your own, and I’m nowhere near as cool as May, but I thought I’d offer to take you to the mall in her stead anyway :)

**Jon (a.k.a. May’s COOL bf):** What do you say, Pete? Saturday? Yes or no?

* * *

Peter screeches to an abrupt halt in the middle of the hallway, blinking dumbly down at his phone.

Ned yelps when he nearly crashes right into his best friend. “Ow! Peter!” he whines, nursing his head. “ _What the—_ why’d you stop?”

Peter sniffs. “I…” His eyes run past the same few sentences over and over again. “I think I have plans this Saturday,” he says blankly.

“Huh?”

* * *

**tin can:** hey kiddo

**tin can:** aunt hottie said she’ll be filling in for a coworker on saturday

**tin can:** feel like heading over to the tower?

**tin can:** i still owe you pizza and popcorn from last time

**tin can:** i’ll even let you choose the movie

**tin can:** (just no frozen, please for the love of god. if i have to hear that goddamn song one more time…)

**underoos:** hi mr stark!!

**underoos:** shoot, sorry, i already said yes to jon. we’re going shopping!!!

**tin can:** what

**tin can:** jon?

**underoos:** may’s bf, remember?? he asked if i wanted to hang out

**underoos:** sorry, mr stark :/ 

**underoos:** maybe next time?

**tin can:**...is this because i won’t subject myself to the torture that is frozen one more time?

**tin can:** because i’m open to negotiation

**underoos:** LOL no

**underoos:** i can’t just cancel on him!! but maybe next saturday??

**underoos:** don’t think i’ve forgotten that i still need to make you watch moana with me >:)

**tin can:** you mean make me suffer through** moana??

**tin can:** but fine. go have fun with jon

**underoos:** stop making that face! there’s nothing wrong with the name jon >:(

**tin can:** ...how do you know I’m making a face

**tin can:** are you spying on me, underoos?

**tin can:** how many times do i have to tell you, i’m the only one allowed to spy here??

**tin can:** no spying allowed for the spider baby

**underoos:** not a baby!!

**underoos:** also, nope, no spying required

**underoos:** you’re just predictable :P

**tin can:** oi

**tin can:** take that back!

**tin can:** i am not predictable!!

**underoos:** :)

**tin can:** i hate u

**underoos:** sure, jan

* * *

Across the city, in the penthouse of Stark Tower, Tony Stark scowls down at his phone as if it’s betrayed him. _What the hell._ He can admit that this is the _last_ thing he expected Peter to say to his impromptu offer of a movie night. (He’d been expecting something more along the lines of cheering and a spam of emojis and happy gifs.) 

“Hey, Pep?”

“Hm?”

“I’m cooler than Aunt Hottie’s new boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, honey,” she humors him absentmindedly.

Tony redirects his scowl to Pepper. _Traitors, the lot of them,_ he thinks sullenly. Despite how optimistic Peter sounded when he first mentioned May’s nascent relationship to him, Tony hadn’t _truly_ expected Peter to _like_ Jon so much. Aren’t kids supposed to hate anyone who tries to date their single parent or something?

He huffs. He’s Peter’s _mentor_ (and occasional father figure). He’s supposed to have dibs on Peter’s free time!

... _damnit. I’m definitely cooler than some random asshole named Jon._

(And yet, somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, Tony feels a stab of doubt.)

* * *

(It’s that doubt that ultimately spurs him into action.)

(“And _no_ , platypus, I am _absolutely not overreacting, thank you very much_.”

“...Shut up, honeybear. I can _hear_ you thinking!”)

* * *

On Monday, Peter barges into Happy’s familiar car waiting in the driveway, tossing his backpack in ahead of him as he goes. “Hi, Happy! Guess who got their Spanish test back?” he cheers, slamming the door shut behind him. “I _aced_ it!”

“Was that supposed to be a pun on your asexuality? Because I _know_ you can do better than that.”

Peter stops in his tracks. “ _Mr. Stark_?”

“The one and only.” Tony Stark gives a new meaning to the term _helicopter mentor_ as he twists back in the driver’s seat and shoots him a smirk. “Come on, kid. There’s no way that’s the best you can do. Tell you what: if you give me a better pun right now, I’ll even let you sit shotgun.”

Peter arches a skeptical eyebrow. “You _always_ make me sit up front anyway,” he points out. It’s true: Tony _hates_ it when he sits in the back—the one time Peter asked why, Tony said something about needing Peter to be close enough for Tony to mess with his hair. Peter always makes a point of teasing Tony for being _embarrassingly sappy_ , but secretly, he’s pretty sure he enjoys their car-rides even more than Tony does.

“...Hush, you,” Tony dismisses. “Give me one anyway.”

Peter ignores him and skips right to claiming the passenger seat, using his flexibility to his advantage as he climbs over the center console. Tony swats at his legs in protest, muttering under his breath about how Peter needs to _stop getting those dirty shoes all over my precious leather seats before Happy beheads us both,_ but Peter ignores that, too. “Where’s Happy, anyway?” he asks. 

“Asking for Hap when you’ve got _me_?” Tony clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. He gasps exaggeratedly, feigning offense, and clutches his heart in a show of theatrics that has Peter rolling his eyes. “I’m hurt, kid.”

Peter sticks out his tongue. “Sorry, Mr. Stark, but _Happy_ buys me ice cream.”

“Wha— _I_ can buy you ice cream!” 

“It doesn’t count if I have to _ask_ you, Mr. Stark,” Peter teases. “Wait, so where is he? Did you finally give him a well-deserved vacation?”

“What, you really think _Happy Hogan—_ the man who embodies being ‘married to his job’ more than anyone else I know, aside from possibly myself _—_ needs an escape from work?”

Peter’s eyes twinkle. “An escape from _you_ , maybe.”

Tony’s jaw drops. “ _Why, you little shit—_ ” he curses.

Peter’s eyes twinkle with barely-repressed snickers, his shoulders convulsing in time to the familiar beat and rhythm of his lively—albeit silent—laughter. 

Tony sulks, pretending as if the sight of Peter’s glee isn’t the _best_ thing he’s laid eyes on all day. If it makes Peter smile like _that,_ he’d let the kid make fun of him all day long. 

(Nothing is worth more than his kid’s smile.)

He still has a reputation to uphold, though—even if Rhodey seems to believe that that reputation is falling to pieces in the face of Peter’s doe-eyed innocence and characteristic stammer and priceless trust (a trust he has, for some unfathomable reason, deemed Tony worthy of)—so he feigns offense: “For your information, Mr. Parker, working for me is _not_ that terrible. And I _did,_ actually, give him today off, but only because I am such a _fantastic_ employer _and_ mentor.” Peter gives him a single wordless _look_ , and Tony scowls defensively. “Don’t look at me like that! What, I’m not allowed to pick my own kid up from school now?”

Peter relents, if only because the words _my own kid_ coming from Tony makes his heart swell in his chest.

Tony smiles triumphantly, recognizing Peter’s silence for what it is. “Now,” he continues swiftly, “where’s my pun? Your first one was _terrible._ ”

Peter pouts at him. “Don’t insult my pun, Mr. Stark!” he protests, waits a beat, and then snickers. “It was am- _ace_ -ing.” He dons a shit-eating grin and twists his upper body around _just_ enough to let Tony glimpse the design on his shirt—the words _SIMPLY AM-ACE-ING_ emblazoned in bold print over the image of a gloved hand holding four ace playing cards.

Tony _groans_ , loud and exaggerated, as if pained. “That was even _worse_ ,” he bemoans. “How can _my_ kid be _this_ bad at wordplay? That’s it, I’m disowning you. You’re officially out of my will.”

“I was in your will!?”

“Not _anymore_ , you’re not.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter whines. “Don’t be _rude._ Are you trying to make me cry? Because I _can_ cry on demand, you know.” It’s one of his greatest talents, in his humble opinion. May’s immune to his fake crying by now, but that’s only because she has the advantage of years of exposure. Ned, on the other hand, says his tears are _Oscar-worthy_. 

(The last time he turned on the waterworks in front of MJ in a last-ditch attempt to weasel his way out of punishment for missing another Decathlon practice, she’d given him a grudgingly impressed look and heaved a sigh. _Fine,_ she’d snapped, _you’re off the hook—this time._

To this day, he thinks of it as his greatest achievement.)

Tony pauses, thinks it through, and wisely says, “Please don’t. _Fine,_ I won’t take you out of my will so long as you keep your tears at bay, all right? Your aunt will kill me if she finds out I made you cry. Do you _want_ her to kill me? Is that it? Are you secretly the greatest threat to Iron Man’s career?”

“I don’t _have_ to be. I won’t tell on you to Aunt May if… if you promise to buy me _ace_ cream,” Peter bargains, eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“...I take it back—you’re back out of the will,” Tony declares solemnly. “You’re the worst.”

Peter just _cackles_ at that. “You _love_ me, really.”

“ _Unfortunately_ ,” Tony grumbles.

Peter’s laughter rings loud and free.

Tony’s heart warms despite his facade of annoyance. Peter’s laugh is without a doubt the best sound in the entire goddamn world. “So, uh,” he blinks, desperately trying to regain his composure lest Peter realizes just _how_ deep his foothold in Tony’s life is, “when did you get that shirt, anyway? I thought I knew all of the ace merch in your possession.”

“Oh!” Peter brightens, entirely unfazed by Tony’s abrupt change of subject—a testament to how accustomed he’s become to every single one of Tony’s eccentricities. “It’s new! I got it at the mall! Well, I mean, Jon got it for me at the mall. Do you like it?”

Tony stiffens. _Jon._ That goddamn _name._ “Jon, huh?” he asks, keeping his voice as lighthearted as he can despite the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Your aunt’s boyfriend is buying you ace merch now?” _That’s my job,_ he thinks bitterly, and then grimaces at his own thoughts. He should be _happy_ for Peter, he tells himself. It’s a _good_ thing that Peter has another person on his side—that Peter can count on someone else to have his back. 

_Don’t be selfish, Stark,_ he scolds himself. _I know you’re a Grade A jerk and all—hell,_ everyone _knows that—but this is Peter freaking Parker. You can’t be selfish with Peter. It’s not allowed._

Peter has always deserved the world. 

“Yeah. He was really nice,” Peter reminisces, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Honestly, I was a little surprised when he invited me to hang out at the mall with him, but I guess he must _really_ like Aunt May if he’s making this much of an effort to get along with her kid.”

Tony frowns, the sick feeling in his gut warping into something darker, more horrified. His heart lurches, suspended in the hollows of his throat for one aching moment before it sinks to his feet. “That has _nothing_ to do with your aunt,” he says hoarsely as he fights to keep the anger—not at Peter, _never at Peter_ , but rather at the world that has failed this precious kid so unforgivably—out of his voice. “I’m sure you’re right, he no doubt adores your aunt, but him ‘making an effort’ with you is an entirely separate thing. Don’t sell yourself short, Pete. You’re likable on your own, and _entirely_ _worth making an effort._ Trust me when I say that he’d be a damn _fool_ to _not_ want to ‘hang out’ with you. You’re the best kid I know.”

“I’m the _only_ kid you know,” Peter retorts instinctively, but there’s no heat behind it. His voice is distracted, dazed—

_Awed._

His mind buzzes with wonder, Tony’s words playing over and over again in his head like a broken record. _You’re entirely worth making an effort._ If it were coming from anyone else, he wouldn’t believe them, but this is _Tony Stark._ Tony _never_ says anything he doesn’t mean, not when it _matters_ ; jokes and sarcastic banter aside, Tony is well aware that his name carries weight, so he always makes sure that every word he says counts.

Anthony Edward Stark is many things, but a liar he is not.

“My statement stands,” Tony says firmly.

Peter fights back a shy, pleased smile. “Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he mumbles.

“I’m just telling the truth. You never have to thank me for being honest,” Tony says. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter flush scarlet and has to hide a grin. Peter’s more honest and transparent and _genuine_ than anyone else in his world—Peter didn’t grow up in the limelight, didn’t grow up learning to mask every emotion behind something _sharper_ and _crueler_ and _phonier._

The kid wears his heart on his sleeve, and Tony ardently hopes that that is something that will never change. 

After a beat of silence, Tony decides to show Peter some mercy, figuring he’d embarrassed Peter enough for the moment, and changes the subject. “So… you came out to Jon, huh?” Tony nudges the kid with a pride that cannot be restrained. Unable to help himself, he reaches up and ruffles Peter’s hair in a gesture that is as practiced as it is natural. It’s one of Tony’s absolute favorite things to do. “How’d that go? Do I need to kick his ass, Iron Man-style?”

Peter snorts, grateful for the distraction from the insistent hum of _you're the best kid I know_ and _I’m just_ _telling the truth_. “No,” he bats Tony’s hand away, a familiar exasperated pout on his face. “He was pretty cool about it. He even got me this shirt, remember?”

Tony resists the urge to glare at said t-shirt. _The shirt’s innocent, Stark_ , he has to remind himself. “How could I possibly forget?” he mutters. The four ace cards glare back at him in reply, the diamond winking at him mockingly and the spade a representation of Jon’s _coolness_ staring him in the face and the clover a reminder of just how goddamn _lucky_ anyone would be to have Peter Parker in their life.

But it’s the last card that ultimately catches his eye, flushing the sour jealousy out of his system. The ace of hearts seems to smile up at him, a reflection of Peter’s own heart — _my kid has the biggest heart I know, Mr. Stark,_ May once whispered softly to him as she smiled down at Peter, who was slumbering cluelessly with his head resting on May’s lap and his feet on Tony’s, _and he has the capacity to love an entire village of people with equal ferocity. You happen to be one of those people. He looks up to you, Stark._

_What are you saying, May?_

_I’m saying, I’m trusting you with his heart. Don’t you dare break it._

_I won’t,_ he’d told May then, _I swear. I’ll protect his heart with everything I have._

Tony repeats that promise to himself today. _Everything I have,_ he revows. _No matter what._

Peter grins, oblivious to Tony’s sudden somber mood. “So, how about that ace cream, huh?”

Tony bites back the instinctive _just for making me listen to that horrendous pun twice, no_. “Sure, kid,” he agrees instead, thinking of the unbending iron in May’s eyes as she’d divulged, _he looks up to you_. He swallows, the sheer _enormity_ of May’s words weighing on him to this day, and makes himself grin sidelong at Peter. (This is one promise he cannot, _will not,_ break. He simply _cannot_ fail Peter; he refuses to.) As he brings up GPS and begins pulling away from the school gates, he tucks his promise away into the safest place he knows— _his mind_ —and hums, “Ben & Jerry’s? It’s been a while since I’ve had a taste of greatness.”

“...and by _greatness,_ you’re talking about _Stark Raving Hazelnuts,_ aren’t you?”

Tony’s smile grows. “ _Yep_.” Peter’s always had a knack for relieving Tony of any heavy thoughts that may be burdening his mind. In this way and a thousand others, Peter Benjamin Parker is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Tony doesn’t have to be a certified genius to know _that_.

For a second, Peter seems torn between an exasperated sigh and an equally-exasperated eye-roll. In the end, he settles for neither: he shrugs helplessly, giving up on taming Tony Stark’s infamous ego, and offers his mentor an indulging smile. “Whatever you say, Mr. Stark,” he chirps.

Tony pointedly ignores the barest hint of sarcasm in Peter’s singsong voice. “Better than Brucie-bear’s,” he adds jeeringly.

“What are you, in _third grade_? Come on, Mr. Stark, you should know that that kind of pettiness is reserved for the playground. And here I thought you were supposed to be the mature one between the two of us,” Peter snarks. 

“Oh _please_ , everyone already knows I’m the least mature adult in the world—”

“ _That’s_ for damn sure—”

“—besides, it’s not like _you_ have any room to talk—”

“— _Hey_!”

As they devolve into a familiar bout of back-and-forth bantering, each gibe coming out more naturally than the last, Tony reflects, _at least I still have this._

No matter who else comes into Peter’s life, whether it’s his aunt’s boyfriend or a teacher or a fellow vigilante, Tony will _always_ have this if he has any say in the matter. He refuses to let anything or anyone cost him _this_ —moments of witty repartee and gut-busting laughter, endless flowing conversation, and an ease that comes from _knowing_ someone inside out.

Tony flicks on the radio, the familiar tunes of Neil Young’s _Old Man_ beginning to belt from the car’s speakers, and lets himself smile.

_No one can take this from me. I’ll protect my kid’s heart until the day I die._

(Peter hides a smile of his own behind a mocking jab at Tony’s song preferences— _they’re as old as you are – ancient._ )

* * *

Despite Tony’s reaffirmed resolve, his doubts don’t vanish overnight.

Every time he tries to erase the insecure thoughts itching at the back of his skull, his traitorous mind wanders to his parents and Obadiah Stane and Steve Rogers, people he thought he could trust and people he’s lost. It wanders to the sight of Steve’s back as he walked away—out of HYDRA’s Siberian bunker and out of Tony’s life.

This isn’t the same thing—Peter isn’t _Steve_ —but Tony’s heart weighs heavy anyway.

* * *

The next time Peter bails on a hang-out session at the Tower for an evening in with May and her boyfriend, Tony gapes down at his phone for thirty whole minutes. This is the second time Peter’s chosen _Jon_ over Tony. _And, really,_ a bitter part of Tony thinks, full of self-loathing, _can you blame him? How long did you think it could last, anyway—you, fooling Peter into thinking you’re anything close to a good person?_

The truth is, a part of Tony has always wondered when the other shoe would drop. This is Peter Parker, after all—the kid who took up a onesie and a mask at fourteen years old to fight crime, the kid who decided to do something selfless and _good_ with his powers, the kid who goes out everyday trying to make the world a better place. 

( _Tony’s_ world is a better place because of Peter, because Peter is _in it._ )

But Tony has never quite understood what _Peter_ has to gain from spending time with him. There’s just something so inherently _kind_ and _compassionate_ and _altruistic_ about Peter Parker. Tony has never felt deserving of Peter’s admiration, of Peter’s respect, of Peter’s _trust—_ not when Tony always seems to destroy everything he touches.

It’s only fitting that Peter wisens up and walks away before Tony destroys him, too. 

And Tony should _let him._ He should give Peter the chance to learn from a mentor who didn’t spend his youth drinking himself into oblivion and hopping in and out of countless women’s beds and generally making poor decisions—a mentor whose hands aren’t stained with the blood of the innocent and whose legacy isn’t that of a merchant of death.

But Tony _can’t._ Because when he thinks of losing Peter, of never getting to call the best kid in the world _his_ kid anymore, of never having another lab session or movie night or road trip with Peter… he just can’t compute. Peter’s managed to sneak his way into Tony’s heart after barely a year, and Tony doesn’t _want_ to have to imagine life without this brilliant, self-sacrificing, _dumbass_ kid.

(This dumbass kid he loves as if he were his own child.)

He isn’t ready for this goodbye—for Peter to look up to someone else above him, for Peter to learn all of his life lessons from someone else (Tony’s been looking forward to teaching Peter how to drive for _way_ too long to give that up now), for Peter to turn to someone else whenever he needs help or whenever he finally works up the courage to ask his best friend out ( _Mr. Stark,_ Peter had whined the last time Tony brought it up, _how am I supposed to ask Ned out on a date when I can’t even look at him without freaking out?_ ).

_No,_ Tony thinks desperately _. Not yet. I still have to keep my promise to May, after all._ And if it tastes just a _little_ too much like an excuse, well, no one has to know.

So as soon as Tony manages to snap himself out of his stupor, he retires to his bedroom and calls FRIDAY up, scrolling hastily on his hologram for a moment or two before he makes a snap decision.

Five minutes later, he stares at the screen and at the words _TRANSACTION COMPLETE_ glaring back at him and _blinks_. 

_Huh._

He patches a call through to his best friend (and the resident expert on all things _Tony_ ) without another thought. “Rhodey, honeybear? I need you to do something for me.”

“Do what?” Rhodey sounds wary—and for good reason. Over the course of a thirty-year-long friendship, Tony has dragged him into no less than nine international scandals, seventeen potentially-illegal pranks, and twenty-one Incidents-with-a-capital-I. He _knows_ that tone of Tony’s voice like the back of his hand, and right now, that voice is ringing his _Tony’s going to get you into trouble_ alarm.

Tony pauses. “I need you to talk me out of doing something very, very stupid. Or if not stupid, then at least incredibly dramatic.”

Rhodey _groans_ out loud at the sound of that. “Tony,” he says in a voice that he hopes indicates his utter exasperation and years of suffering, “if you’re calling me, then it’s already too late.”

A beat of silence.

“...You already did it, didn’t you?” Rhodey guesses—correctly.

“I… _may or may not_ have overreacted,” Tony admits sheepishly. “Just a tiny bit.”

“Overreacted to _what_? _What did you do_?”

“Well, you see, I actually do have a very reasonable explanation for my actions, this time,” Tony defends himself, laughing nervously. “I—”

“ _Tony_!” Rhodey interjects. “ _Not_ my question. And besides, why are you calling _me_? Isn’t Peter there tonight to stop you from making stupid spontaneous decisions?”

“ _That’s_ part of my explanation!” Tony exclaims. “My kid— _the_ kid—” he corrects himself at the last minute at the sound of Rhodey’s poorly concealed _aww_ of delight, “ditched me for his aunt and her goddamn boyfriend. Said something about _family game night_. Since when was his aunt’s beau _family,_ huh? _We’re_ family!” What he means is: _I’m family._ “You and Pep and Happy and – _me_! I can’t _believe—_ ”

Tony cuts himself off mid-rant when he hears a familiar low rumble erupt from the other end of the line. “What the— are you… are you _laughing_?”

Rhodey’s only response is to laugh louder.

“ _Rhodey_!” Tony whines. “You’re supposed to be on _my_ side!”

“I _am_ , I — oh, god, give me a second—”

Tony scowls, listening helplessly as Rhodey dissolves into another burst of hysterical laughter. It isn’t until three _long_ minutes later that Rhodey’s cackling finally, _finally_ recedes.

“You done now?” Tony snipes.

“Yep,” Rhodey replies, still sounding a little too amused for Tony’s taste. “Thanks for that. I needed a good laugh.”

Tony grumbles.

“But anyway, as entertaining as this is,” Rhodey carries on, “Tones, do you _really_ think May’s boyfriend is going to replace _you_? In _Peter’s_ mind?”

“I’m not — I wasn’t worrying about being _replaced,_ ” Tony huffs irritably. “That’s not what this is!”

“Remember who you’re talking to here,” Rhodey snorts. “You’ve never been able to lie to me. Look, Tones,”—Rhodey’s voice sombers suddenly, any remaining traces of amusement fleeing into the wind—“that kid _adores_ you. He’s not going to suddenly turn to May’s boyfriend instead of you just because of a few missed lab sessions. It’s a new relationship; they’re all still trying to find their footing. And I know that it must feel weird to you—having to get used to the idea that Peter has another male figure to look up to now, that is—but I guarantee you that Peter is feeling out of his depth, too. I’m pretty sure this is May’s first serious boyfriend since Peter’s uncle died, after all. Regardless: Peter’s relationship with this new guy is completely separate from his relationship with you; Jon’s presence in Peter’s life doesn’t _undermine_ yours in any way. You’re still his mentor—and, even though you’ll never admit it out loud, his father figure. You get that, right?”

“... _why_ do you have to be so emotionally mature?” Tony sighs. Despite the frustration in his words, it doesn’t reach his voice—instead, his voice leaks with gratitude, a sentiment that is mirrored in his posture as he sinks back in his seat and lets the tension drain out of him. “ _Damn._ Now I feel like a jealous asshole.”

“Look, just – just talk to Peter, okay?” Rhodey advises. “I promise you you’ll feel better once you do.”

“Right,” Tony mutters. “That… that would have probably been a better idea.”

“Better than _what_? Oh, god,”—Rhodey cringes, remembering now what Tony had opened their conversation with—“ _what_ did you do, Tony? Just _how_ overboard did you go during what was presumably your harebrained attempt to prove that you’re still Peter’s mentor?”

“I didn’t go _that_ overboard,” Tony insists—a useless endeavor considering Rhodey has known him for all of three decades and has had a front-row seat to pretty much all of his various overreactions over the years. “But I may have made a... _minor_ donation to _The Trevor Project_.”

“ _Minor_?”

“...Substantial,” Tony corrects himself.

Tony is rewarded with another laugh. “Oh, Tony,” Rhodey _chuckles_ , “of course you did. _Why_ am I not surprised? Well, you know what, motivations aside, this is far from the worst thing you could have done. I was kind of expecting a fire of some sort, so this is a thousand times better.”

“So… you don’t think Peter will think I overstepped?” Tony asks with a wince, worry lacing his voice. 

Rhodey’s laugh is softer this time, full of fondness. “No, Tony,” he replies honestly. “I think Peter will be _thrilled_.”

* * *

In the end, Rhodey is right. (Because _of course_ he is. Rhodey always knows best.)

Tony wakes up with his phone clutched to his chest, a knot in his stomach—he’d been too nervous to admit to Peter what he’d done in a fit of jealousy last night—and a ringing in his skull.

“Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice hums cheerfully, “You have 43 new messages from Underoos.”

Tony blinks dumbly, faintly processing the realization that, _oh, that’s what that ringing is_. When he finally wraps his mind around FRIDAY’s sentence, his heart seizes in his ribcage and he groans in mortification, recalling the previous night’s events. 

“How did he find out so quickly?” he demands, scrubbing a hand over his face. He should have just confronted his nerves and told Peter himself yesterday. He should have been the one to tell Peter, _period_. 

“If you’re referring to your donation to _The Trevor Project_ , I’d assume Peter learned of it through one of the seventeen articles that have surfaced. As I understand it, quite a few journalists and news reporters fought for the privilege of covering your decision to donate to a well-known LGBT+ charity. It seems you have—as Peter would say—broken the Internet.”

Tony’s face is twisted into a grimace. “ _Fantastic,_ ” he sighs. He should have expected that, honestly. _Pepper’s going to kill me for not giving her a heads-up. Great. Okay, let’s address one crisis at a time, Tony._ “All right. Time to face the music, I suppose.”

With bated breath, he lifts his phone to eye-level and powers it on, eyes rapidly scanning through the numerous notifications of Peter’s messages—

The breath _whooshes_ out of him.

“Damn,” he whispers, choked, “I owe Rhodey a drink.”

Rhodey’s prediction was spot-on: Peter is, indeed, _thrilled_. The multitude of keysmashes and exclamation marks and emojified grins is a testament to that. Tony gives a grin of his own and doesn’t bother with replying to any of Peter’s texts. Instead, he clicks Peter’s contact and presses _call._

“—Mr. Stark!” Peter’s excited, bubbly voice bursts across the line after barely two rings. “Holy shit, Mr. Stark! Ned sent me this article by Buzzfeed this morning but I didn’t have the chance to read it until now so I _just_ saw what you did and— _thank you so much,_ Mr. Stark, you’re awesome! I bet you made a lot of people’s days this morning! That money is going to go towards helping a _lot_ of people who need it and I just — _thank you._ I was _not_ expecting to read that today. This is incredible. Thank you, _thank you thank you thank you—_ ”

“Pete, bud, _breathe,_ ” Tony reminds him, trying to sound stern. He’s not sure how well it works—he’s grinning too widely to sound at all convincing. His heart _swells_ with love. God, this _kid_. 

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbles sheepishly, “I’m just _so excited_ —”

Tony sinks back into his pillows and lets himself smile as he listens to Peter’s rambling. 

* * *

Tony’s impromptu donation just so happens to coincide with Stark Industries’ annual Scientific Celebration of Innovative Endeavors and Novel, Contemporary Excellence, or S.C.I.E.N.C.E. Gala for short—a fact Rhodey no doubt finds _hilarious._ Despite her mask of annoyance, even Pepper seems just as amused.

Happy just pats him on the shoulder and notes, “You’ve gone soft, boss.”

“Quiet, Hogan.” Tony flips him the finger. “So have you.”

Happy tellingly doesn’t deny it.

_Peter Parker, ladies and gentleman: the kid capable of reducing grown men to a couple of yesmen wrapped around his pinkie finger—without even realizing he’s done it,_ Tony thinks with a snort. And then, a little less jokingly: _Somehow, I can’t bring myself to mind._

The convenient timing isn’t lost on the guests, either. It’s impossible to miss everyone’s wide-eyed stares as he walks in with Pepper at his side and Happy behind them. Everywhere they go, they’re followed by the hushed whispers of Stark Industries’ investors and business partners and employees.

_Jeez,_ Tony thinks, a flare of irritation burning him from the inside. _Obvious, much? This should not be this big of a surprise—and to so many people._

“Tony,” Pepper murmurs, “ _calm down._ ”

“ _Pep—_ ”

“I’m angry, too, but this is neither the place nor time to show it,” she continues, and it’s only then that his focus zeroes in on the sound of her voice—clipped and cutting. There’s a harsh edge to her every word that makes Tony wince despite the fact that her ire isn’t directed at him. “Besides, do you really think Peter would want you to pick a fight right now?”

Tony arches an eyebrow. “Low blow, Ms. Potts,” he grumbles. She knows full well that disappointing Peter is the _last_ thing he ever wants to do.

She simply smiles serenely at him.

He rolls his eyes but silently agrees to let it go for now—

—or, at least, that _was_ the plan—until one of their longest-standing investors, an old-fashioned businessman by the name of Gavin Hallewell, stops him in his tracks, hardly thirty minutes into the gala. 

“Tony Stark!” Gavin greets boisterously, barely sparing either of Tony’s companions a glance. “It’s good to see you again!”

“You as well, Gavin,” Tony replies with insincere politeness, inclining his head in the briefest of nods. Beside him, Pepper smiles genially at Gavin, her indignation at Gavin’s unspoken slight betrayed only by the minute twitching of her eyebrows. Shooting her an incredulous stare that screams _can you believe this guy?_ , he continues smoothly, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself tonight.”

“Oh, of course,” Gavin agrees readily. “There’s a reason your S.C.I.E.N.C.E. Gala is known as _the_ gala of the year, after all. As always, you exceed expectations.”

Tony bites back smirk. “I agree,” he says conversationally. “ _Pepper_ most certainly outdid herself this year.”

For a moment, Gavin flounders with incomprehension as Tony redirects the topic of conversation to the person he’d been pointedly ignoring. Pepper, for her part, just sends Tony an exasperated glance and simultaneously pins Gavin with a frigid smile. 

“Right,” Gavin finally manages to find his voice. “Well, while I’m here, I’d like to discuss a certain matter with you. My assistant informed me of your most recent act of _philanthropy_ earlier, and I have to admit, Mr. Stark, I’m not quite sure what your reasoning was—”

“ _Excuse me_?” Tony snaps, dropping his friendly facade in a heartbeat. As the smile slithers off his face and he consciously shifts posture to create a far more imposing effect, he’s only vaguely aware of Pepper’s moment of contemplation before she decisively steps away to let him proceed, her own eyes narrowed. “My _reasoning_? I wasn’t aware I had to answer to you.”

“Come on, Mr. Stark,”—Gavin laughs loudly, slapping Tony on the back, and Tony takes a moment to _hate_ the way his name sounds in Gavin’s voice (so different from Peter’s adoring _Mr. Stark_ )—“I just wanted to know _why._ It’s not as if _those people_ deserve your charity—”

Tony _bristles_ with white-hot rage. “Gavin,” he says, his voice quiet and steady and _dangerous,_ “I suggest you stop speaking _immediately_ if you know what’s good for you.”

Gavin squints at Tony, the overly-sycophantic demeanor fading away. “You don’t need to pretend with me, Mr. Stark,” he scoffs. “I know you just did it for a PR stunt, so you can drop the sham. You don’t need to act as if you actually _support_ those people in _here_. We’re all friends here, after all. And let’s just be honest with each other: ‘asexuality’—or whatever the kids are calling it— _is not real._ It’s a damn _excuse—_ ”

“ _My kid_ happens to be one of ‘those people’,” Tony cuts in sharply. Gavin falls silent, eyes widening in naked shock, but Tony barely notices. He doesn’t notice the way everyone else in their vicinity falls silent, too, no longer pretending to mind their own business as heads and phones both turn to Tony at once. “Asexuality is _absolutely_ real and I will _not_ let you tell _anyone here_ otherwise. Because I _promise_ you, Mr. Hallewell—if there’s one guaranteed way to remove yourself from my favor _permanently,_ it is to _insult_ _my kid._ ”

“Your _kid_?” Gavin splutters in disbelief. “B-But—”

“But _nothing._ ” Tony’s reply is swift and cutting, leaving no room for argument or misinterpretation. “I’ve been anonymously supporting the LGBT+ community for years, but your reaction today tells me that I should have been transparent about my stance on this issue from day one. That’s _my bad_. Well, let me rectify that mistake now and make things perfectly clear to _everyone_ present today: I stand by my donation 100% and am _publicly_ pledging my support. And if that isn’t unequivocal enough, then perhaps this will do it: _never_ insult the LGBT+ community in my presence again.”

Gavin gawks speechlessly.

“In other words,” Tony snaps, “ _get the fuck out._ You’re no longer welcome here or at _any_ future Stark Industries’ event.”

“You can’t— you can’t just _kick me out,_ ” Gavin protests. “I’m an investor in your company! My family has had relations with the Stark Empire since your father was CEO!”

“Word of advice? Don’t tell a Stark what he _can_ or _cannot_ do,” Tony sneers. “And I think you’ve forgotten _who I am_ in the midst of your delusional overestimations of your own importance. I don’t _need_ your business _or_ your money, and if you’re going to stand there and talk shit about _my_ _kid—_ the _best_ kid I have _ever_ had the privilege of knowing—then I certainly don’t _want_ your business either.”

“I—”

“Right, I’ve had enough of this.” Tony makes a show of turning his back on the relentless asshole, nodding at Happy once and then jerking his head in the direction of the exit. “Get him out of my sight.”

“Happily, boss,” Happy growls.

Gavin raises a few more protests as Happy marches towards him, but in the end, he silences himself angrily, realizing he only has two options now. Rather than be escorted out, he casts Tony one last indignant glare and storms off towards the exit. 

Tony clicks his tongue in anger. “ _Bastard,_ ” he hisses.

“Tony…”

“I don’t regret it,” he says defiantly to Pepper. “You told me not to pick a fight, and I wasn’t going to. But _he_ came to _me_ spouting _bullshit,_ and I couldn’t let that go. Honestly, what did you expect me to do? Just stand here and _let_ him get away with that crap?”

“ _Tony,_ ” Pepper repeats. He stills, making an effort to uncurl his fists and _relax_ now that Gavin is gone, and finally notices that Pepper is _smiling_ at him. “I’m proud of you. I have no doubt I’m going to have a PR _nightmare_ on my hands tomorrow, but I _am_ proud of you. And Peter will be, too.”

Tony inhales. “What happened to _Peter wouldn’t want you to cause an argument_?” he jokes weakly.

“There’s a difference between starting a fight and _finishing_ one,” Pepper points out. “And beyond that—this wasn’t about you picking an argument. This was about you _defending_ him to someone who was already looking for trouble.”

“You think he’ll see it that way?”

“I _know_ he’ll see it as you showing your support,” she corrects. “Now go.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s not pretend as if you have any desire to stay here any longer,” she says, looking far too amused for someone who practically _forced_ him into attendance earlier tonight. “You and I both know where you’d rather be right now. And I get it, so _go._ ”

“...To be clear, are you _encouraging_ me to ditch the gala?” 

“ _Tony,_ ” Pepper snaps, “ _go_ before I change my mind.”

Tony goes.

* * *

The Parkers see Tony coming from a mile away—partly because they had prior warning. Less than fifteen minutes ago, only about one hour into round two of family game night (May had come out the winner of yesterday’s game night, much to Peter’s chagrin), Peter’s phone had started _buzzing_ incessantly. Peter had barely lasted one minute before he’d mumbled a quick apology and snatched his phone up, scanning his texts—

His jaw drops.

“Pete?” May prompts. “What’s wrong?”

“I think… I think we should turn on the TV,” he says faintly. “Ned’s _freaking out._ ”

May blinks in confusion, but moves to obey. Peter scrambles up from where he’d been sitting on the carpeted floor, hunched over their latest board game, and vaults over the coffee table to flop down onto the sofa. May and Jon follow suit, sinking into the cushions on either side of him. As soon as the TV switches on, conveniently already tuned into a news channel, the sight of opulent gold halls and dripping chandeliers fill the screen. 

“Is that... _Tony_?” May squints. Jon straightens in his seat, curiosity brimming inside him—he’d quietly accepted it when May and Peter revealed Peter’s internship with the man behind Stark Industries’ greatest inventions, understanding that Peter preferred to keep that side of his life private, but he can’t deny that he’s _curious_. “Didn’t he say he was going to some gala today?”

“Yeah,” Peter says breathlessly, eyes locked onto his mentor on the screen. Tony seems entirely unaware of the cameras trained on him, his posture aggressive and eyes burning with anger. It’s a look Peter hasn’t seen on him since the whole Staten Island Ferry debacle. 

On the bottom of the screen, scrolling across the TV, reads the news ticker: _EXCLUSIVE FOOTAGE FROM INSIDE STARK S.C.I.E.N.C.E. GALA SHEDS LIGHT ON TONY STARK’S LGBT+ STANCE._

The displayed footage itself seems to have come directly from an attendee of the gala, going by the shaky videography—a telltale sign of the use of a camera phone to capture the recording.

By the end of the footage—by the time Tony’s parting words ( _my kid—the best kid I have ever had the privilege of knowing_ ) settle in the reverent quiet of the room—Peter’s eyes are tearing up. Through his blurring vision, he stares on in open-mouthed awe, far too riveted by Tony’s every word to feel embarrassed or anything but _touched._

“Well, he’s damn right about one thing,”—May eventually breaks their stunned silence—“you’re the best kid _either_ of us know.”

Peter can’t help the giggle that spills over his lips. “Well,” he teases, voice catching on the beginnings of a sniffle, “you’re biased, Aunt May.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not _right,_ ” she counters.

When he turns to look at her, it’s to find her smiling softly to herself, the brown of her eyes molten with equal parts relief and gratitude. She’ll be the first to admit that she wasn’t exactly _fond_ of Stark at the beginning; she hadn’t _trusted_ him, not in the least, and especially not with her kid. Peter had practically idolized Iron Man, after all, and she’d believed Tony to be _woefully_ undeserving of Peter’s admiration. Beyond that, more than a small part of her had worried that Tony would use that admiration to manipulate Peter, who’d never dream of disobeying his hero. 

Now, though, having watched them interact—having seen in Tony a familiar fondness that she recognizes from the mirror, having heard the utter _devotion_ in his voice every time he talks about her ( _their_ ) kid, and having witnessed for herself that Peter holds _just as much power_ over Tony Stark—she can safely say that there’s no one she trusts more with Peter. She knows with certainty that Tony would sooner die than let Peter get hurt.

Jon, meanwhile, just ruffles Peter’s hair with a grin. He may not understand everything about Peter’s ties to Tony Stark, but there’s one thing he _does_ know for certain: “I _knew_ there was a reason I liked him,” he chuckles. “He has good taste.”

Peter, cheeks burning red and eyes looking anywhere but at May or Jon, ducks his head and smiles to himself.

* * *

Mere minutes later, May is anything but surprised when she finds Tony Stark outside her apartment. She cracks the door open and spots him pacing back and forth in front of the threshold, a lingering tension in the raised slope of his shoulders.

As soon as he hears the door open, he snaps to attention, his frenzied gaze finding May’s tender one. “ _May._ ”

It’s an attestation to how _rattled_ he is by the night’s events that he doesn’t so much as bother to tack on his preferred _Aunt Hottie_. May smiles knowingly at him. “Hey, Tony.” 

Tony sucks in a breath. May’s smile is misty-eyed and sentimental, and it makes Tony feel like he did something _right._ When she opens the door a little wider, gesturing for him to _come in_ with a welcoming nod, he _knows_ he did something right. He finds it in him to smile back at her, the niggling traces of anger at Gavin draining away. 

“How did you—”

“—know you were coming?” May finishes. She closes the door behind them and chuckles, leading Tony towards the living room. “Turns out Happy needs to up the security of your gala. Someone managed to sneak out footage of your little argument.”

“Ah.”

“Yep.” She bumps her hip against his in an easy, natural move the likes of which he could have only dreamed of ten years ago. “Go on. I think you have a kid to hug.”

Tony comes to a screeching halt, his own words from earlier slamming back into memory. “Oh, _crap_ , you heard that, huh?” he asks faintly, wincing. He braces himself for May’s righteous recrimination. “I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to… _claim_ him as my own or anything, I know he’s _your_ kid and I’m not actually related to him, I just—”

“Tony,” May chuckles, slowing to a stop beside him and resting her hand on his forearm, “I think you and I both know that he’s not _just_ mine. And if it’s blood you’re worried about—well, Peter and I aren’t blood-related either, but that doesn’t diminish our relationship in the least. I’m his family _by choice_ , and so are you. If it makes Peter happy—and I _know_ it does—then I don’t mind sharing.”

Tony swallows. It sounds too good to be true. (It sounds like everything he’s only ever let himself want in his dreams.) “No?”

“No,” she says simply, squeezing his arm gently. “You’re good for him.”

Slowly, tentatively, he smiles sidelong at her and throws an arm across her shoulders. It feels _painfully_ inadequate, but he hopes it manages to convey his gratitude nonetheless. “Thank you, May,” he murmurs, willing his feet to move again. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will,” May says, just as they cross over into the living room. “Boys,” she calls out, “look who came to visit.”

Peter, who’d been in the middle of an animated retelling of his and Ned’s latest adventure, twists around so quickly Tony’s surprised he doesn’t fall off the sofa completely. His head snaps up to take in the sight of Tony in all his glory, squeezed into their cozy little living room, and he _beams._ “Mr. Stark!”

Tony grins back, too _content_ after his and May’s conversation to feel anything but bliss even in the face of Jon’s presence. “Hey, kiddo,” he greets. And then, emboldened by a nudge from May, he opens his arms wide and urges, “Come on, I want my Peter hug.”

Peter bounds over, launching himself into Tony’s welcoming embrace with a speed and ferocity that nearly makes them both topple over. Tony just barely manages to steady his footing as he catches his kid with an _oomph,_ his arms instinctively closing around Peter. 

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbles into Tony’s suit jacket. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“The suit comes in handy in times like this,” is all Tony says in reply to that.

Peter chokes in disbelief, leaning back to gawk up at Tony. “You took an _Iron Man_ _suit_? _Mr. Stark_!”

“What?” Tony shrugs as if it’s no big deal. To him, after all, it _is_ no big deal. It may be a gross misuse of possibly the most advanced exoskeleton armor in the world, but this is _Peter._ There’s no one more important, and no one more worthy of his best effort. With that in mind, he says, easy as breathing, “Sure, I did. I wanted to get here as quickly as possible, after all. And Happy may be fast, but he’s no FRIDAY.”

Peter rolls his eyes at him. “I can’t _believe_ you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony just laughs, leading Peter over to the couch with another grateful look at May and a grudgingly acknowledging nod towards Jon. “Come on, what’s the use of having a powerful suit of armor if I can’t even use it to get me around?”

Peter hums, curling up against Tony in a way that is instinctive—his head makes Tony’s shoulder its home as he tucks his feet under his thighs and clutches Tony’s hand in his own. It’s a position that comes to them naturally now; they’ve spent dozens of movie nights just like this, nestled together on the couch with a bowl of popcorn on Tony’s lap and an Iron Man-patterned fleece blanket thrown over them. The proof of it is saved on May’s phone, sent to her and Happy and Rhodey by a delighted Pepper in their group chat—lovingly dubbed: **_the 411 on our two (2) dumbass boys_**.

“I saw what happened,” Peter whispers, eyes trained on the floor. “I’m sorry you had to defend me.”

“ _What_?” Tony asks sharply, jerking upright. His hand momentarily stills where it’s been absentmindedly carding through Peter’s mess of curls. “Kid, why the hell are you _sorry_?”

“I just… I heard him say he’s an important investor in Stark Industries.” Peter shrugs, a feeble gesture lined with insecurity. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I don’t – I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

Tony scoffs at that. As if he wouldn’t give up every single investor and more for Peter. (As if he wouldn’t give the whole _world_ for Peter.) “Kid, I’m _Tony Stark_. I’ve got billions to my name— _literally._ I’m the _only_ investor I _need_.” After a moment, he forces himself to relax, fingers restarting their motion of threading through Peter’s hair. “You didn’t _cause_ anything, bud. That donation was _my_ choice, as was throwing Hallewell out on his ass. And I meant what I said to him—I stand by _both_ those actions 100%.”

And what Peter hears is: _no one gets to insult you. No one is more important than you._

_You could never be a burden._

Peter’s lips quirk upwards. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony just hums in reply, throwing his free arm around Peter and _squeezing_ tightly. He thinks back to the stuffy gala—where he’d been surrounded by dozens of people all dressed to the nines and all looking to impress him—and Pepper’s laughing huff of _you and I both know where you’d rather be right now._

She was right, Tony thinks as he looks down at Peter, dressed in his pajamas (an oversized Hulk-themed t-shirt—the _traitor_ —and an _incredibly_ familiar pair of Hello Kitty pajama pants) and looking only to be _himself_ with Tony. _This_ is where he _belongs_ —with his kid in his arms, safe and sound and blissfully content. 

And right here, right now, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! as always, I appreciate any and all kudos and comments <3 
> 
> feel free to let me know what you thought below or on tumblr ([@iron-loyalty](https://iron-loyalty.tumblr.com)) :)


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